


I'm Tired of Talking On My Phone

by Jeevey, Savageandwise



Series: Love in the Time of Corona [14]
Category: Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds (Band), Oasis (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeevey/pseuds/Jeevey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: March 24, 2020. Sometimes you just pick up the phone.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Debbie Gwyther, Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher, Noel Gallagher/Sara MacDonald
Series: Love in the Time of Corona [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747696
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33





	I'm Tired of Talking On My Phone

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, Liam is written by Savageandwise and Noel is written by me. Thank you for reading!

“Liam.”

"Fuck, it's you."

“Uh. Yeah. Me.”

"I...l...um...didn't think you...Fuck. I didn't think you'd actually answer."

“I didn’t mean to. I fucking dropped it and hit the button when I picked it up, and now--shut up, Sonny--now I’m fucking—I said shut it!— fucking stuck. Christ. Kid’s laughing his tits off at me."

"Clever kid you've got there."

“Fucking...alright. We’re here, I guess. Hold on, I’m just gonna go in the other room.”

"No, we don't...Noel...we...are you there? You know, I mean...we don't have to talk if you don't…"

“I’m here. Yeah, I know I don’t have to. I mean, calm down, right? It’s just talking.”

"I'm fucking calm. I'm calm. Just didn't expect...are you...? You sound…you been on the lash?"

“Wankered all the time these days, aren’t I. Fuck, hold on. I just had some had some crisps and spilled everything. You know what, nevermind. I’m gonna sit in the fucking conservatory and pick it up later.”

"Ooh…in t' conserrrrvatorrrry, are weh? How fancy!"

“Don’t everybody have one? No, seriously, the conservatory’s fuckin brilliant and I’ll tell you why; cause it’s like a greenhouse and a swimming pool all in one, and it feels like it’s sunny out even when it’s not, and nobody likes it but me. It’s just me in ‘ere, innit. Only place I can be alone.”

"Right...thought your house was fucking massive...I'm sat in the teepee...I reckon that's where I go when I...that's where I am now. Debbie's in the house with our Katie."

“The house is massive. It is. Sometimes y’can’t breathe in there, d you know what I mean?”

"Yeah? Yeah. Are you…? Nevermind."

“Am I what. What were you going to say? And did—did you say a teepee? Are you in a fucking teepee right now?”

"Yeah. A teepee. In the garden. It's fucking...fucking biblical. I meant to say...What I mean is...Are you okay? That's what I was gonna say."

“‘Course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Fucking...I just picked up the phone, it was an accident, and now here we are. Just, here we are, eleven years later. Tell me about the teepee.”

"It's really quite big. You know, I got it off them Glasto boys. I always wanted one and I just thought...fuck it. I'm having one. It's got huge cushions inside, like...in the grass. Maybe I'll get one of them mini fridges. You know what I mean? Eleven years. Fucking hell...You're still a fucking terrible liar, you know?"

“I know. Don't I know it. God, I just…. Fuck. Cushions in the grass, and what else?”

"A little...a portable radio. And hoola hoops and a jump rope and a football. A load of lanterns for when it's dark. And cat toys. But those contrary cunts would rather play with the cork off a bottle of wine or an unused tampon or summat. And me. I'm inside with a bottle of tequila.”

“You've got a fucking playhouse.”

"So? All work no play makes Jack a fucking boring cunt."

“And you just… sit out there and count your toes. Play hula hoops. Did Debbie get it to get you out o’ the house?”

"I told you. I always wanted one. I do whatever I want out here. It's my play house. I don't have to pretend I love hanging out with the potted plants if I need to fucking breathe. What's the matter with you? Do you need...why aren't you okay?"

“I wish I knew. I've never been stuck in one place this long before, y’ know? And it's just….you start looking in the mirror long enough, you might see some things you don't like. There's no one to pick a fight with except my wife and kids and I won't do that, so here I am. Wankered at four in the afternoon for the twenty-eigth day in a row.”

"Right...right...fucking knew you missed me. Fucking knew it!”

“What makes you so sure it's that, cunt?”

"Don't know. I just woke up this morning, right? I could feel you missing me. In the bottom of me stomach, like."

“I’m glad you’re still psychic, Liam. Jesus. Missing you, my arse. So tell me something, psychic. Does Debbie know about me?”

"Yeah, man. I mean the whole world knows about you. You're a celebrity, aren't you?"

“Fucking. Don't be an idiot. Does she know about _me._ Me and you.”

"What about me and you?"

“Never mind. I wait eleven years to talk to you and you’re still a knob. Just tell me what the cats are up to, then.”

"Debbie doesn't know about...about...that, Noel. Course she fucking doesn't. What do you take me for, a moron? Does Sara?"

“She might do. I never asked, did I? On the one hand she's not an idiot and it was right front of her for-- wait. Debbie doesn't know? Why doesn't she fucking know?”

"Why would she? She's never met you, has she? You think we have chats about it? She asks me: so, Liam...what's up with that brother of yours? There's me, right: oh...me and him. We used to fuck. You know. Nothing wrong with a bit of incest. You feel like bangers or pizza for tea?"

“Fine. Whatever. I just thought you two being soulmates and all, seems kind of important.”

"Then why haven't you asked Sara?"

“Because I don't think she wants to know, is why. I think she likes it the way it is.”

"What do you want? Do you want to talk about it? Cause it seems like you do or you wouldn't have brought it up, right? I'd tell Debbie if she asked me. I mean...she knows who I am, like. This won't shake her world. She knows...she knows some things about you…"

“ _Some_ things, what does that fucking mean. What does she fucking know about me?"

"She knows...she knows what you...She knows she'll never...she's not...ah fuck it...she knows she's not you."

“Fuck. Fucking...Liam. I don’t. I’m just….”

"Just what? You fucking wanted to know. I ain't asking for fuck all."

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

"Nothing to be sorry for. What you sorry for?"

“It’s not....That’s not what I wanted. Not what I meant to happen.”

"Oh and what did you mean to happen? When you were planning it all...what did you think would happen? Condescending prick."

“I meant—and don’t fucking yell at me, Liam, ‘cos I swear to God I’m telling the truth—I meant….I mean, back when I ended it…”

"Yeah, you did. You ended it. And fuck Oasis. It was never about Oasis. You fucking ended the...the...the...us being brothers...fuck!"

“I did, I ended you and me being...us. I did that. But I just...Liam, you’ve got to believe me. I ended it because I thought….It sounds so stupid now. Fuck. I ended it because I thought we’d get over it. D’you know what I mean? I thought that with enough time apart you’d get over it and….and be happy.”

"I'm happy, I am. Sunshine coming out me fucking arse. Never been better. Aren't you? I mean here's you fucking feeling sorry for me! Are you happy, Noel?"

“Jesus. Liam, can’t you, like...I’m trying, here. Drunk off me arse on a fuckin Tuesday and picked up the phone for the first time in eleven years, for Christ’s sake. Can’t you give me a little something, a little benefit of the doubt, maybe? I’m not saying I feel sorry for you. I’m saying I’m sorry. For what I’ve done.”

"And I'm saying stop being sorry for what you done! It's done. You want me to say sorry too? Sorry for being a cunt? Does it change anything? Are we mates now? No! Cos I fucked things up. And I made you fucking...fucking miserable for years...and I was...I'm so fucking angry, Noel. I'm fucking...fucking...sorry. Alright?"

“No. Liam, don’t. Please. Don’t cry, I fucking— shit. Hold on, I’ve….god. Okay...okay. I’ve got it now. Liam….Are you still there?”

"Yeah...where else would I be and all? I'm...okay...I'm okay now..."

“Liam. Tell me what you look like right now.”

"You...what?!"

“I’m not being perverted, I just... I want to see you, is all. Tell me what I would see if I were there.”

"I'm...I'm wearing... sweats and an old T-shirt...it's just a plain one and a light jacket. And I haven't cut me beard in months. It's dead long now. You?"

“More than that, cunt. Tell me what it looks like. How you’re sitting and that...please.”

"Christ, Noel...I...I'm sat on one of them big cushions. Sort of lying on it really. And I've got me phone. And I'm stretching me legs out in front of me...I'm...is that...is that it?"

“Yeah. And you’ve got the cats with you?”

"Nancy's in here with me, needy creature. Sid's inside, lazy cunt. Where's your one at? What's his name again? Shoes or Socks or summat."

“Mm. Yeah. Something like that."

"And you're not touching yourself?'

“No. No. I’m just...seeing you. Like I was there, y’know. Like, you’re listening to the radio, and I’ve got me guitar, and we’re just—being there.”

"That's...well...that's cozy, that is. Just like old times."

“Yeah. I’m just...out in the conservatory. Jesus, this house is just a cunt’s place. You’d hate it, but I love this room, really I do. I’m in this big wicker chair, with a back like a throne, y’know. And there’s like, orchids and banana trees and such in here, and it smells...maybe not like Ireland, but like Ireland, that green wet smell. D'you remember that?”

"Yeah. Like stuff growing. I remember you always seemed happier there and that. That's what I remember. Don't you like your house?"

“I don’t know. Honest to god, I don’t. It’s so beautiful, Liam. You wouldn’t believe it. Even when we were kids and I was thinking how I’d have this or that someday if I was rich, I couldn’t have dreamed of this place. I couldn’t have made it up. So I’m here in my throne, and I’ve got some black jeans on, and...and white trainers...and...I’m fucking not.”

"You're not…? Not what?…Wish to God you were here. If I finish this bottle of tequila on me own, I'll regret it tomorrow…and you'd like the garden. It's why I chose the place, you know."

“Fucking...okay. Just...tell me why you chose it.”

"It's just a perfect garden. Enough space to run, just the right amount of trees. Little stone paths. Flower beds and that. Like summat out of a fairy story. I know you can't believe I'd care about that sort of thing. But I do."

“No, I do. S-somebody showed me a photo, and it looked like a storybook back there. Looked right for you. Have you—have you got blankets or summat out there with your cushions and all?”

"Yeah, I've got a couple of blankets. The fleecy kind. When it's warm enough you can spread them in the grass, lay on your back. Look up at the stars. Somebody? Somebody showed you a picture? Or you seen it on Twitter?"

“Sara showed me your twitter photo, but I don’t want to talk about that part, okay? I just...thinking about your blankets. And--and I’m not, okay. I just miss you so fucking much.”

"Noel."

“Christ. I’ve got—“

"No! Don't...don't go yet...I'm...don't go!"

“I’ve got to. I’ve got to stop this, Liam. I—I’ll call you back another day, I promise, I just—“

"Fuck! You can't say…you can't fucking say something like that and just fuck off again. You just can't! Just...for fuck's sake, Noel. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

“I’m not fucking off, I swear. I’m just...I’m dying here, Liam, I can’t take it. I’ll call you. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I’m—I’m going now.”

"Go on then. You'll fucking forget it happened in the morning, won't you? Just like back then. Just acted like I was crazy. Fucking...fucking call me tomorrow then. You're fucking....Nothing for eleven cunting years. And now you...Go on then."

“Liam. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good...goodnight.”


End file.
